Demon Hunter
by MJDai
Summary: All alone now, Maeve survives. But little pieces of her get lost along the way.
1. Part 1

A while ago I read that the show's creators were open to Maeve returning as a guest. That she'd be a roaming demonhunter. That made NO sense to me. Dermott seemed to be integral to all of Maeve's motivation and he remained on the Nomad so… huh? So I decided to figure out a way it could work, kinda sorta.

Warnings: attempted rape, rape apologists, disfigurement, verbal abuse to a disfigured person. Terrible loneliness. Also non-descriptive consensual sex. I think I kept it all PG-13 but let me know if you think I should bump up the rating.

Part one

Her tongue felt too thick for her mouth, her arms and legs were made of lead, burning lead that dragged her down as she moved. The sand slid into the shallow wounds all over her limbs as she pushed herself up onto her knees. The movement unsettled her enough to retch up seawater from her stomach and lungs. And terrible as she felt, she was so, so grateful to be alive.

With bleary blinks she noticed she wasn't alone on the beach. Just a few feet from her Maeve recognized a lump of cloth and limbs as none other than her captain. Unsure if he was dead or alive she forced her protesting limbs into motion. The short distance seemed like an impossible trek to her, but she persisted, hand, knee, other side, hand, knee. Seconds ticked by, her limbs shook so hard she couldn't make out if Sinbad's chest was rising and falling or if it was as eerily still as the rest of him.

Finally she reached him, the relief too heavy to bear, she collapsed onto his chest. That sudden compression sent the Captain into a coughing fit. With the last of her strength she scrambled off of him and managed to turn his head to the side just in time. He retched up half an ocean's worth of seawater but never woke up. She curled protectively around him, shielding him from the hungry sea, ever trying to gobble them up, and gave in to her exhaustion.

No longer on a beach, instead she was floating. Too exhausted even to think, she looked up at the bright blue of the sky above her as the waves carried her into dark valleys and over white tipped crests at their whim.

Cold hands touched her skin. Her legs, hands touching her legs, pushing them apart. It was wrong, something was wrong. A sense of urgency. Hands further up her legs, cloth dropping down onto her knees. Breath in her face, touch at- her eyes flew open and almost of its own accord her right hand flew up, clapping over the looming face and pushing with all her might.

The stranger swore, jumped, touched his face where her burned handprint had marked him like cattle. He shouted, raved at her as she shook. Her hands found the meagre sheet and wrapped it around herself as she cowered in the corner. More even than the raving man, she was aware of the pricking straw in the stuffed mattress below her and the burning thirst in her throat.

At long last the shouting man left and she was free to lunge for the earthenware jug where she found clear, cool water that felt like divine blessing to her parched body. It spread through her like the touch of life itself, revitalising her. The jug drained, she had not drunk her fill, but was now aware enough to put first things first.

She was alone in a small shack, a fisherman's by the looks of it, his home consisting of just a single small room. A quick search revealed of all her clothes only her linen shirt, now salt stained and torn in places. She shrugged it on, grabbing the sheet from the bed to wear as a make-shift skirt. That done she took the jug and tired as she still was, ventured outside to look for more water.

A well-worn dirt path lead away from the shack and the sea, disappearing into the dunes. Staying in the shack clearly wasn't an option, so she tightened her grip on the jug and on shaking legs, walked the path.

The path ended at a small gathering of huts around a well. Several women had filled tubs with water and were washing clothes near the well, long lines of drying clothes stretched between the huts scenting the wind with fresh, soapy laundry.

Maeve opened her mouth to speak, but her poor disused voice abandoned her in favour of a froglike croak. Startled, the women looked up from their conversations and work. Several of them gasped in fright at the sight of Maeve.

"It's Sorol's witch!" One of the women held up a thick wooden stick she had been stirring the laundry with just moments ago. "Get thee hence, witch! Or feel the heft of my stave!"

"Please," Maeve held up the jug. "Water." the words burned in her throat.

"And poison our well? I think not!" The same woman raised her stave a little higher and took a threatening step towards Maeve.

"I'll go," Maeve did not feel strong enough to have a confrontation with these women. "Just please. Where else can I find water?" The words came out in fits and starts depending on the cooperation of her throat.

"I won't tell you again, witch," the woman stepped forward once more, looking more menacing with every step.

Maeve nodded, turned and staggered away.

She followed another dirt path towards the shade of some trees. Out of sight of the women by the well she found shelter between the roots of the broadest of the oaks. Leaning her head back against the bark she watched the lush green leaves playing catch with the sunbeams. Dire as her situation still was- without water, food and some safe shelter she wouldn't survive very long- she reflected that she was a damn sight better off than she had been this morning. Instead of dying in the water, or getting assaulted by some old guy, she was alone on dry land. Pretty good progress. Thinking of the creep, her own innate sense of practicality knew she had to do what her very self feared finding out. She had been unconscious in the hands of a rapist for who-knows how long. She took a deep breath, shoving all that was soft and innocent about herself to the very back of her mind and folded her skirt open. The long shallow cuts on her legs she was fairly sure she had come by at sea, encountering other flotsam. The cuts were cleaned but not bound. She steeled herself once again and gently probed at her opening. No soreness, no seed, fresh nor matted in her hair, no tears. Her inner thighs likewise were unbruised. Quickly she folded the skirt closed and took one, two, three tremulous breaths of relief. Her eyes burned with tears she didn't have the moisture to create. Regaining control of herself she continued her examination of herself, now above the waist. Her hands were swollen, her blood too thick now to flow properly. Her arms sported the same long, shallow cuts her legs did. On either side of her breasts four little round bruises appeared. Maeve shuddered at the thought of the old man grabbing at her unconscious body but pushed the thought roughly aside. She felt her face with her hands, it too was swollen, her lips chapped and painful, her left cheekbone felt tender, maybe she was bruised there.

Her examination done she closed her eyes and called Dermott with her mind. She put all her might into that call, not knowing if he was close or far. Alas, there was no sign of her brother, not even an echo.

First things first, water, food, rest, then find a way to contact Sinbad. If he didn't find her first; with all the consternation she had left in her wake, finding her shouldn't be too hard to do.

"Alas child, he will not find you. He no longer looks."

Startled Maeve looked around. "Master Dim-Dim?"

"You are to go it alone for a while child."

"What? No, you promised I would return Dermott to his own shape. I can't do that alone!" Maeve answered with her mind, finally aware that Dim-Dim was not actually near her.

"They will continue your quest while you spend your time honing your skills. You were liability to them child. Your lack of strength and skills would have gotten not only yourself, but all of them killed."

"No, master, they are my friends! I will get stronger, I promise, but with them. We'll get stronger together." Maeve argued.

"When I accepted you as my apprentice you made a vow of obedience. Obey my command now child. I will not have you endanger Sinbad and his crew!"

"But…" Maeve had never heard her master sound so terse. "But Dermott?"

"He has chosen not to walk your path with you. Now be well child and grow."

With that the presence Maeve felt disappeared, leaving her more devastated then before. But surely, surely, Dim-Dim was wrong on this one? Had he been alone so long that he had forgotten what friendship felt like? She was sure her friends would not just give up on her! And Dermott, after all they had been through, would not just choose another. Obedience be damned, she would find her friends.

A rustling behind her on the path startled her out of her thoughts. "Who goes there?" Her voice still sounded like a frog in its final death-throes.

"Uhm, Rachel? I live just up ahead," a mousy little woman stepped into Maeve's line of sight.

"You got water?" Maeve asked, trying to sound as friendly as she could in her circumstances.

"You musn't blame Deirdre for refusing you water, with the men gone she thinks its her job to protect us all," Rachel fidgeted with her skirt.

Maeve shrugged helplessly, whatever this Deirdre thought, it didn't negate her need for real, actual help.

"Look, if you promise not to hurt me I can take you to my home," Rachel offered. At Maeve's eager nod, Rachel helped the other woman up and together they walked up to a little house sitting in a pretty clearing between the trees.

Once inside Rachel ushered Maeve into a chair by a sturdy wooden table. After pouring Maeve a cup full of water Rachel opened a box by the hearth. Out of the straw packed inside the box she lifted a cloth wrapped pot. She set the pot on the table- the smells emanating from it made Maeve's mouth water- and busied herself finding bowls and spoons.

"It's not right to leave them as wash up on our shores to their fate. Not with so many of our own out on the boats, making their living on the water." Rachel directed her words more towards the objects she was handling than to Maeve but the message came across.

A thick stew was served up and Maeve fell upon it, ravenous.

"Well, my cooking has never gotten this fervent a response before," Rachel remarked.

"Oh, sorry," Maeve made an effort to slow down.

"No, no, it's good! Eat up, plenty more where that came from. My husband doesn't like my mutton stew, so I try only to make it when he is out to sea," Rachel seemed to warm up to Maeve a little. "Now, I don't think I caught your name."

It was miraculous how much good the plentiful supply of water and food did. Her throat and chapped lips felt better by the moment, her limbs gained strength, even her thoughts spend up.

"Maeve," she said between bites. "So no one's come asking for me?"

"I haven't seen a foreign sailor in years. Did you fall off a boat? Were you travelling?" Rachel asked, curious about the stranger at her table.

Maeve nodded. "During a storm. It came at us out of nowhere and I fell overboard. I think… I remember waking up on a beach, my captain was there too, barely alive but I got him breathing…"

"Sorol didn't see anyone else on the beach you washed up at." Rachel furrowed her brow.

"The tide must have gotten me while I was out," Maeve said. "I remember floating. But this Sorol, what's his problem?"

"Well uh," Rachel shrunk back a little from the vehemence suddenly in Maeve's voice. "He's been praying for a wife since his late wife passed away. When you washed up he was sure you were the gift he had been praying for. He even stayed behind from the boats while the other men sailed, to care for you. I don't think it's right what you did to him."

Maeve scoffed at that. "Imagine waking up from a drowning to some stranger's pecker poking at your entrance! I didn't know what I was doing when I burned him, but I am glad I did. Maybe next time he'll remember to ask a woman if she wants him inside of her!"

Rachel squirmed uncomfortably. "He considered you his wife already. He probably didn't see any harm in it."

"I don't care if this was our tenth wedding anniversary! If I am not conscious enough to agree to the goings on, I am to be left unassaulted," Maeve argued, angry that Rachel was defending the vile man who had violated her unconscious body just hours ago.

"Well, it's going to be trouble, believe you me. He skipped a fishing trip to care for you and now he has nothing to show for it. He might come and claim you to make up for the loss," Rachel explained.

"He'll get a lesson in taking responsibility for his actions if he tries anything," Maeve said darkly.

Rachel apparently, did not agree with this but decided not to push the issue. "Now, what was the name of the ship you sailed with? The menfolk will be back in a week or two, they might have news."

"The Nomad, it sailed under Baghdad's flag. Sinbad, that's her captain, is an emissary of the Caliph," Maeve was relieved to let the more loaded topic drop as well. Rachel had been the only person to offer her aid so she couldn't afford to alienate her. Added to that, her feelings on what happened on waking up that morning were still brittle and shifting, she needed a trusted friend to talk it through with, not this well-meaning but ultimately defensive woman.

"Had he captured you for the Caliph?" Rachel asked, her eyes big.

"Ah, no," Maeve thought that Rachel didn't think her evil, but apparently the whole _witch_ thing had made an impression. "I was a part of the crew." She thought of a way to frame her presence on the crew in as non-threatening a way as possible. "The Caliph gets many requests for help from the outlying islands. It could be monsters, magic, even scientists gone insane… He sends us to rid the islands of their troubles. And you see, magic can't always be countered by mundane means, that's where I come in. I'm a sorcerer's apprentice."

"Have you… Did you… The Caliph of Baghdad, have you met him?" Rachel stammered.

Maeve nodded, the woman across from her practically fell to her knees. Everything became just so much _simpler _then.

Two weeks later Rachel's husband dropped her off on the shores of the mainland. The villagers had provided her with a sword, a pack stuffed to the gills with food and a purse filled with what dinars they could spare. On top of that they had furnished Maeve with new boots, new clothes and a thick woollen cloak. Apparently, taking part in the rescue of the Caliph's daughter in law was tantamount to being royalty herself.

Now Maeve had two goals: find her crew (obedience be damned) and get stronger (alright so obedience was not to be _totally_ damned). She set one foot in front of the other and started her journey.


	2. Part 2

Part Two

She hitched a ride from a carter bringing in supplies to feed the mercenaries some princeling was hiring to deal with an infestation of fire demons. She too was hoping to get hired as fire demons had become a speciality of hers over the last year of solo adventuring. Not that you could tell from her face, half of which had that distinctive melting skin look that came with being caught in the sudden post-mortem acid explosion that was, so Maeve had learned, a feature of the species. Her whole left side featured this deformation, her arm had taken the worst of it as she had used it to shield her eyes.

The carter winced as he looked over his shoulder to her lounging between the crates, still not used to her face. "Missus, we're about nearest the nest now. Are you sure you can get us through if them demons send out a hunting party?"

Maeve shrugged on the thick, well-worn leather coat she had been using as a pillow and laced it tightly shut. Her trousers were made out of the same brown material. Both fell loose enough about her to allow her freedom of movement and were tight enough not to easily snag. With quick movements she pinned her hair and shoved a leather cap over her head, the back of which was long enough to fall over her coat's collar. She strapped on her sword and scabbard, checking to make sure they sat comfortably at her back without impeding her movements.

"Don't worry, Bob," Maeve said before muttering a fire-repellent spell over herself. "I've got this covered."

And indeed, just as Bob the carter had feared, three fire-demons popped their heads up over the nearest rise and, upon spotting them, approached rapidly.

Maeve stood up in the cart and stretched her arms out, casually limbering up even as Bob was spurring his horse on.

"See Bob, these fire-demons have a complicated internal chemistry. They have to balance themselves just right to keep burning but not blow up." Maeve explained calmly as the three demons started spreading out in hopes of surrounding the cart.

"In their normal, everyday state, that's when they look like they're burning merrily, it takes a LOT of either ice or iron to kill them, that's the state they're in now. In their attack state, that's when they burn low and so hot the flames are blue, they're practically unkillable, but that state takes a lot of energy, so they can't keep it up very long. But there's a third state, I've called it their alert state, that's when they bank their fire in preparation of either attacking or going back dormant."

Maeve conjured the illusion of a deer springing out from behind the cart. The little deer blithely cavorted within sight of the demons, who were warily approaching it. Once the three demons had approached closely enough, their fires banked down as they sensed the potential for a trap. Suddenly the deer revealed sharp, pointy fangs, hissing at the three demons, who reared back, exposing their bellies, just as the illusion of the deer erupted into a very real explosion. Three smaller explosions followed, staining the spot where the demons had been with bubbling acid.

The draft horse had been admirably allowing itself to be reined in, these explosions however were too much. It bolted down the path. Unable to keep her balance Maeve fell down amongst the crates.

Bob eventually managed to calm the horse down before it could hurt itself. Stopping the cart completely Bob took off his cap and wiped the sweat from his forehead. "Well Missus, if ever you need another ride, you can always climb onto my cart."

Maeve smiled- she pretended not to see Bob wince as her scar tissue pulled into ever more interesting shapes as she lifted the corner of her mouth- "When they're in alert state, they're vulnerable to fire of all things!"

Bob laughed, after being afraid for his life just moments ago, this seemed like the right response. "Come on now Missus, we'll be at the keep in no time flat. I think we deserve a drink after all that! And Bessie here too," he affectionately patted the horse's rump before urging the horse back into step.

Maeve fastened the cloak around her, pulling up the hood. Upon Bob's questioning look she explained. "I don't want some overeager demon hunter taking a shot at me. It's the face, it makes me look demonic to the uninitiated, I think."

Bob was quiet for a moment as he contemplated that. "As I see it, it takes a mighty special woman to give up her pretty looks to keep the rest of us safe from the likes of those demons back there."

"Thank you," Maeve said, touched by the sentiment. It was easier than to explain that she hadn't really meant to lose her looks, or that she was just doing what her master had told her to do. During her good days she figured it might all be worth it. During her bad days all she saw was a monster who still, _still_, had not managed to free Dermott. After a year of trying everything she could think of to sharpen her skills, to gain strength, master Dim-Dim had still not come back to tell her she was good enough.

The princeling, what's his name, Arnold, Arno, Ahmed? Looked down his nose at her. He didn't even bother to try and hide his disgust at her disfigurement.

"I have been assured of your skills…" The princeling clearly did not believe that what he had been assured of.

"All true. Look, I know you're still waiting for more men to help you root out the nest. Why don't I scout around a little? I'll start at dawn, they're at their most lethargic then, and try to get a map together of the main nest, the guard nests and patrols and the numbers of fighting adults, that sort of thing." Maeve fought off the urge to draw the hood of her cloak back up. Let him look, let him be uncomfortable and disgusted if he so chose.

"Yes, do that." If the princeling hoped she would die on her scout it would not surprise Maeve one bit.

Without waiting for a dismissal Maeve wandered off, looking for someone that passed as a quartermaster in this barely organised military campaign.

With a sigh of contentment she lowered herself into the large, steaming pool. The scars made her joints ache, the hot water was like a soothing balm. Who would have guessed this backwater would have a public bathhouse?

Across from her a small knot of women gossiped amongst themselves while the bathhouse attendants worked on cleaning their bodies. Seeing no attendant was free, Maeve slapped a wet cloth over her eyes and dozed in the comfort of the hot water.

_She floated in the water, too exhausted even to think. The sky was stark blue above her. The water carried her through dark valleys and over white tipped crests. Maeve let go of her body, floating up and up, watching her own body like it was a ragdoll in the bath. Farther and farther she flew, the doll all alone in the vast expanse of ocean and sky._

She breathed water, and for a moment was sure she was dying. Then a strong hand pulled her up and she could breathe again. Maeve wildly grabbed the side of the pool and fought to get her breath back, to get herself back under control.

"Are you alright?" The hand that had pulled her up was attached to a young brunette, a fellow bather, who looked at her full of concern.

"Yes, thank you," Maeve said. "That'll teach me not to fall asleep in the bath." She weakly joked.

"We all make mistakes sometimes," the brunette smiled kindly.

Something nagged at Maeve, it took her a moment to lay her thumb on it. When she did she checked if she had her accidentally activated her 'pretty charm', the charm she used when she got too tired of being looked at as a freak. The thing used a disproportional amount of energy however, so she used it sparingly. Now though, it lay dormant.

"So you've seen a lot then," Maeve concluded, apropos of nothing, or so her companion seemed to think by her startled look. "I mean, the scars, they frighten people."

"Oh," the brunette blushed. "I ah, I did notice when I came in. It's just, you know, this region is infested with fire demons, it makes sense that there are people who wear their scars as well. I didn't mean to offend you, I'm sorry."

"No offence taken," Maeve assured her, unsure at what she should be offended exactly. "I'm not from the region actually. I fight demons for a living."

The brunette's eyes widened prettily. "That's amazing! My name's Bryn," the girl forwarded her arm and Maeve clasped her wrist. The rainbow bracelet felt slick under her wet grasp.

"Maeve," the bracelet re-assured Maeve that she was indeed speaking to good people, as it were. "Have you come to fight the demons as well?"

Bryn nodded. "My captain is talking to the commander now. I couldn't wait to get to the baths, I feel like we've been travelling non-stop forever!"

Maeve laughed. "Same here! It's a terrible feeling when you can't tell who smells more like horse, you or the actual horse."

Two attendants finished up their previous clients and approached Bryn and Maeve. Upon seeing Maeve's slightly apprehensive look her attendant patted her on the shoulder. "I've seen it all and then some. I've got some great oils for the scars, after you get cleaned, I'll rub you down with them."

Having encountered very few acts of unprovoked kindness, it hit Maeve right in a soft spot. Where she was able to brazen out rudeness, and joke around the uncomfortable feelings she evoked, she seemed to have lost the ability to deal head-on with kindness.

"Hey, it's alright," Bryn's voice soothed Maeve's bewildered nerves. Meeting her gaze, Bryn nodded her encouragement.

"Want to come scout the demon nest with me tomorrow?" Maeve asked.

She left a far greater tip for her attendant than she could reasonably afford.

At dawn the camp was as quiet as a graveyard. Several mercenary companies had come in yesterday and subsequently spent most of the night carousing. Aside from the occasional staggering soldier, vomiting his guts out just outside his tent, all was quiet.

Maeve recognised the sigil on one of the tents as belonging to a group of Nordic warriors who were adventuring all over the world. "Björn!" Maeve drew back the tent's flap. "Long time no see buddy!"

An unintelligible garble, accompanied by a violently alcoholic smell, was all the reply she got.

"I'm looking for a woman. Is she one of yours? About this tall, brown hair, name's Bryn."

"Ha, I knew it!" Björn more or less sat up in his bedroll and squinted at Maeve. "You want a girl!"

It took a little puzzling but Maeve thought he might be alluding to that time- right after she'd kicked his ass for calling her ugly- that he'd suggested she ride him like a stallion instead of kicking him like an ass. Of course he thought she only rejected him because she was into girls!

"Sure man, if I want a real man I've got no choice but to go find a woman. We both know who the stronger of us is," Maeve goaded him happily.

"Bah! 's Just the magic!" Björn growled.

"Rematch?" Maeve offered, loudly.

Björn grimaced and grabbed his head. "Go on, foul woman! I've got no women named Bryn in my band. Take Ygritte or Yvette instead. Either's up for it if you ask nicely."

"Sleep well, Björn," Maeve closed the tent flap and took a step back, wondering where to look for Bryn next. As it turned out, she only needed to turn around.

"Friend of yours?" Bryn nodded towards the tent.

"Björn's a good egg," Maeve smiled. "First things first, we're going to visit the quartermaster. Fighting fire demons is not something you do in a dress."

Bryn eyed the thick leather Maeve was sporting, etched as it was by various encounters with fire and acid, and nodded. "I don't have anything that could even remotely protect me from demons."

The quartermaster grumbled about being there to outfit soldiers, not little ladies, as he scrounged through his supplies. He eventually found a long woollen coat and thick woollen leggings that he assured them were as fireproof as he could find, save for the thick iron armour.

Maeve lent Bryn her own spare cap, and then they were all set to go.

"So fire demons eat meat, but more importantly, they're always looking for something to feed their flames. They eat wood if they have to, but they thrive on coal and even peat. The land is too marshy for coal, so I'm guessing it's the peat they're after. Do you see how the land there rises up? The demons will use the ridge as their defensive line, behind it, in the downs, they will have most resources they need to hatch and raise their young." Maeve explained.

"Are the downs surrounded on all sides by rises like that?" Bryn asked.

"That's what we'll find out," Maeve stopped Bryn, now that they were out of sight of the camp and slapped a fire-resistance spell on her. She did not like to advertise her gifts- too many times of being run out of town being called a witch would do that to a person- but she also did not want her new acquaintance to be in more danger than strictly necessary.

"You're a sorceress?" Bryn gasped.

Maeve nodded, it was a step up from being called a witch, that was for sure. "An apprentice, but yeah."

"Can you teach me?" Bryn asked, breathless with excitement.

"I don't know," Maeve admitted. "Can you do magic?"

"Sort of, magic sort of happens, whether I intend it to, or not," Bryn looked down at her hands as if they had misbehaved.

"Oh! That happened to me once," Maeve started walking again. "Come on, there's a more comfortable spot over there."

They settled on cushiony, dry grass in the shade of a large beech. Bryn heard Maeve's call for the local wildlife in her mind. After a quick request for information on the demons, Maeve cleared a large patch of grass until there was only the sand beneath it. In the hours that followed, small rodents would hop along, and draw lines or lay little pieces of stone or wood on the sand. They were drawing a map for them.

"So this is how you scout?" Bryn asked.

"I don't like going into any situation blind. We'll do the leg-work after we know what to expect," Maeve explained.

"Smart," Bryn had never considered putting the animal friends she spoke with to use like this. Even Dermott scouted at his own behest, not her request.

"So uh, I'm an apprentice, I've never had to teach anyone else," Maeve explained. "I'm a little lost about how to start."

"Where's your teacher? How did she teach you?" Bryn asked, eager to learn more about her powers.

"He was mostly cryptic at me," Maeve admitted. "He did teach me how to make fireballs. Want to learn that?"

Bryn eagerly nodded, so Maeve walked her through the steps just as Dim-Dim had once done for her.

Instead of a fireball, Bryn held a blooming gingerroot in her hand.

"Huh," Maeve scratched her head.

"I did not see this one coming," Bryn agreed. "I wasn't even thinking about ginger."

While the two sorceresses worked on their craft the rodents built and built the map until a large, surprisingly detailed rendition of the demon infested area appeared. Maeve took a folded piece of vellum out of her inside coat pocket, muttered a spell and transferred the sand-drawn map onto the vellum.

"Let's go take out a few of the guard nests. We can learn about their organisation and communication by how quickly they can re-establish the guard," Maeve suggested.

That evening, in no mood to be seen and have her scars be reacted to, Maeve did not join one of the many cooking fires the ever increasing number of hired men and women had started. Instead, she sat in the shadows, with her back against the wall, her hood drawn up as she watched the goings on around her.

What's-his-face the princeling had taken her map and intelligence with ill grace and had not been interested in her suggested strategy. Maeve would tackle that problem once the idiot in charge came out with a stupid plan that would get all of them killed. For now she just sat and watched.

Watching, she had found out, was a great way to learn. A few warriors trained together, their techniques familiar to Maeve. She made a mental note to ask to spar with them sometime. Getting stronger did not just mean magically, her sword arm needed work too. Three poisoners sat together around their own little fire, everyone else giving them a wide berth. Maeve decided she would join them a little later, as the secrets that slipped from those blackened lips would very likely be useful to her later. None of those she could see were obvious magic users. Maybe she could find a bookroom in the keep tomorrow morning, and see if there was anything to learn there. For now though, a second visit to the bathhouse was in order, the oils the attendant had rubbed her down with had done wonders for her always aching scars and she wanted more.

As unobtrusively as she could she walked the shadows, her cloak swirling around her. Still, someone noticed her.

"Maeve!" Someone behind her called. "Come and see this."

Turning around Maeve saw it was Ygritte of Björn's troupe who'd called her over. "I heard you were looking for us?"

"What, no. Björn was drunk," Maeve shrugged and wanted to be on her way when Ygritte grabbed her wrist. Maeve clenched her teeth to stop herself from reacting violently.

"Whatever, it doesn't matter, come see. Yvette and I made a new friend. He's teaching us how to throw knives!" Ygritte tugged at Maeve's wrist, but Maeve stopped paying attention when she spotted someone over Ygritte's shoulder. She tugged her wrist free but stood frozen in quiet indecision for a long moment.

Finally Rongar looked over to Ygritte. Maeve saw no immediate recognition on his face and she pulled her hood deeper over her face as he approached. It wasn't that she didn't want to see him, it was just… her face, her scars, she didn't want him to see her this way.

"Maeve, what's the matter?" Granted, Ygritte had only met Maeve once before, but what with the whole kicking Björn's ass thing, she did not seem like the shy type.

Rongar put a hand to the hood of her cloak. Maeve clutched convulsively at her hood, before prying her hands away and allowing him to push it back. She was shaking while he looked at her full of compassion. She had never felt like such a failure in all her life. Here she was, supposed to be stronger, more capable, _better_. For the very real, very important reason of not getting everything who stood by her side killed by her weakness. But instead of strength, she showed shaking limbs and teary eyes and scars, and _not good enough_.

Rongar hugged her. She hugged him back. Ygritte babbled something about not knowing he was taken, but she was ignored. He smelled like salt and the sea and himself. But not like home. Abruptly pulling back Maeve looked at him. "Dermott?" she asked, now she was shaken out of her initial panic she knew where her priorities had to lie.

Rongar smiled and signed that he was around. Maeve grasped Rongar's hand, afraid he would walk away and she would lose all connection to her old self again. She reached out with her mind, out and up, to the mind whose shape was as familiar to her as her own. And he answered. He answered with wild joy, sending the emotion reverberating through her body. Up there he cried out loudly, diving down to the red hair he could pick out of any crowd from any distance. Unable to hold herself up, Maeve's knees buckled but she caught Dermott on her wrist and clutched him close to her. Rongar crouched by her side, a steadying hand on her back to help her feel that she was not alone, not anymore.

Doubar was very much not letting Maeve go. After allowing Firouz to hug her he had drawn her down to a log by the fire with him, put an arm around her and drawn her against him.

"It was like losing a sister," he'd said, unable to give voice to all the feelings her reappearance gave him cause to feel.

Maeve leaned into Doubar, resting her head against his shoulder. There was a peace here she had not known for over a year now. Dermott nestled in her lap, looking more like a cat than a hawk for the moment.

Bryn quietly watched the sorceress she had been befriending, whose life she had apparently more or less taken over. Would it be like this for her? When she learned of her past, would she find someone else living her life? Another thought niggled at her as she watched Maeve, appearing quite pretty now her scars were hidden against Doubar's shoulder. Now that they had their sorceress back, would the Nomad still welcome Bryn?

"You will not believe this prince! I'm sure the only reason he invited so many armed men is because he is planning use us as demon fodder! His plan is going to get all of us- Maeve?" Sinbad halted mid-stride and mid-sentence as he walked into their little corner of the camp. "How, why, wha…" not normally one prone to speechlessness, Sinbad found he could not form words.

Maeve raised her head to look at him, revealing a second shock to him. "Merciful Allah," he muttered. He strode to her, knelt at her side. "Who did this? Who do we need to kill?"

"I took care of that," Maeve said, feeling some bravado coming back to her after her evening full of emotional upheaval. She had been worrying about Sinbad's reaction to her new look and she worried still, but… maybe she would be fine either way.

"Of course you did," Sinbad's eyes were rapidly filling with tears as his heart was slowly catching up to current events. "You're here."

"You're here." It was probably a dumb thing to say but after so long, it was nothing short of amazing.

Almost reverentially Sinbad lay a hand on her knee. His hand felt warm and real, and she must have felt just as real to him, as tears rolled down his face. Had she known, back then, back before she was alone, and before she was _alone_, had she known how much they all cared? Had she realized how much _she_ cared?

She abruptly grabbed his hand and stood, dragging him up with her. Dermott, dislodged from her lap flew up with an aggravated squawk, Doubar took the dislodging of his arm with only slightly better grace.

"It's good to see you, sailor," Maeve smiled widely, her heart fit to burst with every feeling. She hugged him tightly.

"I'm sorry," he muttered. "If I had known you needed me… I thought, with Dim-Dim, you'd be safe… I thought… I didn't mean to fail you, I'm so sorry."

With a pang Maeve realized he wasn't emotional over their reunion, but was saddened over her disfigurement. How like him, to apologize for that which had nothing to do with him! How arrogant he still was! How dare he make this one difference in her appearance more important than everything else about her!

Angry she pulled back from him. "You have nothing to be sorry for. I can take care of myself, I don't need you or master Dim-Dim to take care of me!"

"What? No, I didn't mean…" Sinbad stammered. But Maeve didn't listen, instead stomping off, away from the friends she had so longed to see. Dermott flew after her and after a short, internal struggle, she allowed him to land on her wrist.

Doubar grabbed Sinbad so the young captain couldn't follow the angry celt and make things worse. "What did you say?"

"Nothing bad! I just apologized. I… I failed her, if only I…" Sinbad looked miserable.

Doubar sighed, understanding that Sinbad had quite a few inner demons to purge, understanding that he had meant well. Hell, most people would have taken his words as sweet. But Doubar could also see that Maeve had had a very hard year and that she had changed, both outside and inside, and she needed reassurance that she had done well, and until she got that, she would take everything as a condemnation of her ability.

"Go tell her you missed her," Doubar counselled seriously. "Tell her she's great without qualifying it with a 'for someone who has been through what you have'. Tell her you're her friend and you're there for her, to listen or talk or sit quietly. Got that?"

Sinbad nodded without really understanding what his brother had picked up on. Still, he would follow the advice, as he knew a good course of action when he saw it. Doubar clapped him on the shoulder and let him hurry after Maeve.

"When did you get wise?" Bryn asked softly from the other side of the fire.

"When my little brother needed me to be," Doubar sighed wearily, rubbing his face.

"Well, this is not how I saw tonight going," Firouz said. "All the feelings- it's ah, not my area of expertise."

"She looked so scared when I first spotted her," Rongar signed. "Like she was going to break the moment I saw her face."

Rongar, Firouz, Doubar and Bryn talked quietly on, processing the events of the day together.

Meanwhile Sinbad had caught up with Maeve.

"Please don't do that," Sinbad came up from behind her. "I was scared you had disappeared again."

"Go away Sinbad," Maeve sighed wearily. She gave him an out. A safe way to leave her alone again without having to recriminate himself.

"I missed you Maeve, so much," Sinbad said, grasping hard to remember what Doubar had told him to say.

"I'm not the girl I was, Sinbad," Maeve drew the hood of her cloak up once more.

"Neither am I. My scars are on the inside and maybe that makes them a easier to bear. But they are very much there and… and I missed you and you're my friend and no matter what, you're still my friend… And I want to be a good friend but I have no idea how to… do you need me to talk, or listen or… be quiet?" Sinbad babbled quickly, it was almost like he was drunk, his mind was so muddled by everything about her.

Suddenly she was hugging him again and even she didn't know why. She just didn't want to get hurt but wasn't sure whether having her friends around her or being alone would be the safest course of action. And then he was kissing her- or was she kissing him?- and thought was overrated anyway.

Dermott had long since left them to it. Sinbad turned his head, his nose grazing her scarred cheek. He pulled back, and it felt like he was rejecting her scars and didn't that just feel like getting stabbed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you," Sinbad stammered. "I mean, does it hurt? Your skin? Can I touch it without hurting you?"

"It doesn't hurt, you can touch it. If you want," Maeve hadn't felt this awkward with a boy since she was thirteen years old.

Sinbad lay his hand against her cheek, caressing the bumpy flesh of her cheekbone with his thumb. Then they were kissing again.

How long had it been before tonight, that she had felt a loving touch? How long had it been since he had touched with an open heart?

She pulled him ever nearer to herself, moulding herself against him, drawing her cloak around the both of them.

"Woah, you found a live one then!" Yvette strolled by the kissing couple. "Does this mean the knife-thrower is up for grabs?"

"I have no claim on Rongar," Maeve shooed the girl away. "Want to take this somewhere more private?" she asked Sinbad, trying to be bold so she wouldn't have to face the confused jumble of feelings hidden under the thick layer of lust, love, _need_ for him, his body, his touch, right now.

"Yeah," he took her hand- her scarred, mangled hand- and gestured ahead. "Lead the way."

It should have been awkward, this walk. Instead it was simple and fun. They joked about Rongar getting lucky and the stupidity about what's-his-name the prince. Maeve led him to the little hayloft above Bob the carter's stable where she had been staying, free of charge thanks to her monster slaying heroics.

"We can just talk, if you'd rather," Maeve offered, trying to give him a way out.

"I do want to talk," Sinbad saw the pang of rejection displayed on her face and smoothed it out with his caress. "After."

Apparently, that was the right thing to say because she beamed at him and kissed him with enthusiasm. He kissed her laughing mouth with a smile of his own. Together, they marvelled in each other, as tangled as they became with words, so in tune they were when touching.

The hayloft was almost completely dark, the only light coming from a small sliver of moon shining through the cracks of the wooden slats in the corners of the loft.

"You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" Sinbad found her hand with his and gave it a gentle squeeze. They lay on a horse blanket only slightly less itchy than the hay and had covered themselves with Maeve's cloak.

"No, just enjoying the moment," Maeve drew his hand around her back and released it there to bring her hand back up to caress his arm and shoulder. She tried not to breathe in his face but it was hard as they lay so close together, facing each other. "Are you comfortable?"

"Of course," there was a warm intimacy in his voice, or maybe she just imagined it. "I just want you to know that I wasn't expecting this."

"You didn't think I would lay one eye on you and drag you off to my boudoir?" Maeve joked, before softly kissing him once more.

"I am not complaining!" Sinbad tucked the cloak a little tighter around her, worried that she might catch a cold. "But I do have to ask… why?"

Maeve was thankful for the darkness, so she didn't have to guard her expressions. It made her heart feel a little more unguarded as well. Well, the darkness and their amorous activities, that helped too. "You know, when master Dim-Dim first told me I shouldn't go find you again, I thought he had forgotten what friendship felt like. I was determined to find you and tell you that Dim-Dim had foreseen that my weakness would get us all killed. And I thought that you all would help me get stronger and that would be that."

"We would have," Sinbad ran his hand up her bare back up to the back of her neck.

Maeve hummed her agreement. "But I came to realize that getting one of you killed was just not a risk I could take. I've left almost everyone I know and loved once before, together with Dermott. So I knew I could do it. It's just… it got really lonely."

Sinbad hugged her close, hearing the sadness in her voice. It hit a tender spot within him as well. "I got lonely too. Not in the same way as you of course. I just felt so guilty about my part in your disappearance and… I missed you. I missed you so much and I- I didn't have a right to. Not really. I thought you were happy and safe with Dim-Dim and that I was selfish. And I was, selfish. I never thought that you were out there, all alone, needing me, needing help."

She traced his cheekbone with her thumb. "You have nothing to feel guilty about."

"I do, but I'm learning- slowly- that I can learn from my actions without letting the guilt weigh me down. I need to keep my heart open, scary as that is," Sinbad confessed.

"This might be the first smart thing I ever heard you say," Maeve teased.

"Oh you know, someone had to spell it out for me after I tried to give away my soul to Scratch to free you from him- I thought he'd captured you at the time," Sinbad tried to keep the mood light by adopting a no-big-deal attitude but it did not work.

"Woah! What? Your soul? Scratch? What?" Maeve protested, punching him in the arm to give weight to her words.

Sinbad briefly outlined his adventure in the Hell House, interspersed with Maeve's occasional punches to his arm and admonishments not to give away his soul.

"So you see, we all put ourselves on the line for each other. Your joining us would make our lives none more dangerous and a lot happier. You are coming back to us, right?" Apprehension crawled up Sinbad's spine as he asked the loaded question.

Maeve was quiet for a moment. It had felt like a little bubble, like underneath her thick cloak the world did not quite exist. But with a roar the world jumped back and shattered something precious. She took a deep breath and phrased her world very carefully. "I was alone when I got hurt. And yes, it was awful and yes, I was fairly sure I was going to die. And the one thing that made it even a little bearable was the knowledge that at least my mistake had not gotten anyone else hurt."

Sinbad heard the direction in which her words were leading and tightened his arm around her.

"I can't take the risk, Sinbad. Not until master Dim-Dim tells me I am strong enough to at least make the risk worth it," Maeve finished. "Believe me, I wish I could."

"No Maeve," Sinbad tried hard to find reasons to convince her. "You don't get to decide if it's worth the risk. I speak for my crew, and I say having you with us is worth it. If you want we can take a vote or- I don't know, do you have a way of speaking with Dim-Dim because I am sure we can convince him. We can take any precaution you want…"

"Well," Maeve tried to sound like she wasn't crying, but her tears stuffed up her nose. "It's good to be wanted anyway."

"Oh god Maeve, I've been wanting you back since the moment I saw you falling overboard. I honestly don't know if I could take watching you walk away. If you don't want to re-join us, I will come with you. Doubar can take the Nomad, or maybe he will want to come too and-" he couldn't find the right words so he kissed her with all the desperation he felt.

Without any better way to break the tension they made love. No longer in need of staving off the loneliness, they showed each other their depth of feeling instead. There was a desperation there, a sorrow and a joy. He rested his forehead against the crook of her shoulder as his last shuddering thrusts made him clumsy and all she wanted to do was cradle and keep him with her entire body.

In the morning the leaders of the various bands of mercenaries and adventurers were summoned to a council with the prince. Maeve and Sinbad attended, together with a dozen more leaders. A quick headcount gave the total number of people in the temporary employ of the prince at 82, added to the two dozen guard he had on retainer already.

"I don't know what you're whining about!" The prince tried to stare down a battle-scarred brute who, it must be said, did not look impressed. "We outnumber the beasts two to one! Are you a coward, sir? To be hiding behind craven tactics!"

"Not a coward, a good leader. My boys don't need to die for stupidity or laziness, especially if it's not their own." The brute spat on the floor, just by the prince's toes.

Maeve stepped up. "I've been fighting fire demons like this for a while now and have learned a lot. I can tell you how to kill them without getting a face full of acid for your troubles."

"Clearly you can't," the prince sneered at her, pointedly looking at her disfiguring scars. "Just go away freak, I cannot stand the sight of you."

"Hey!" Sinbad angrily shouted. "Don't talk to her like that!"

Maeve yanked him back into place. "I fight my own battles," she hissed angrily at him before turning back to the prince. "I don't care about your poor little eyes. I care about the people of this isle and ridding them of this infestation. We will do this safely, for all involved. That means no frontal assault. The demons would go through traditional battle lines like a hot knife through butter."

"Did you scout the place out, Maeve?" Björn asked from the other side of the room.

"I did, I drew that map," she indicated the map pinned to the table, now infested with little wooden soldiers in neatly drawn up lines.

"This is _my _campaign!" The prince yelled. "My father ordered me to get rid of the beasts and I will do it!"

Several of the leaders around the table responded to that, so loudly it became an incomprehensible noise.

It was the big brutish looking mercenary leader who quieted everyone down. "Look kid, we get it. You want to prove yourself. You probably sent for some books, you had your little toy soldiers made. But it all means nothing if you don't know your enemy. So here's some free advice: Use what you have. The ugly girl has info, use it."

It was the big meaty hand on his shoulder that convinced the prince to nod- imperiously, of course.

Maeve quickly and clearly explained the states of the firedemons, how they functioned as a group and how their defences were set up. The brute gently guided the prince through a series of questions until the prince came up with a plan of attack that everyone could get behind. All on his own. Of course. Now everyone knew their role in the coming battle, the leaders all returned to their crews to instruct them.

Sinbad slipped his hand into Maeve's, guiding her back to his camp. "Why didn't you tell anyone about your magic? Or Bryn's for that matter?"

"That boy does not need any other reason to burn me at the stake." Maeve shrugged.

"I mean, I knew he was a fool the moment I met him, but why is he so mad at you?"

Maeve looked down towards the ground as they walked, but did not break her pace. "Because I disgust him. I am a woman and I am disfigured. He dismissed me as no more than something filthy he'd stepped in the moment he saw me. That I am capable, useful, unsettles him. He does not like that feeling, so he tries to remove it by any means necessary."

Sinbad did not know what to say to that, so just raised their joined hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles. "I mean," he suddenly chuckled. "You could always piss a guy off just by walking into a room. So I guess nothing's really changed."

"Time was, I had to open my mouth first," Maeve argued, but couldn't help a smile of her own. "Will you let me take Bryn? Together we can fortify the soldiers, make everyone just a little more fireproof. You know, quietly."

"Of course, if she's willing." Sinbad easily gave in.

Teaching Bryn the fire-proofing charm went easily enough- for them that is. Firouz sweated quite a bit finally experiencing what it was like being the guinea pig instead of the scientist. Then the women, accompanied by Dermott, set off while Sinbad explained the plan to the guys.

Björn's camp was their first stop, seeing as they already knew about Maeve's magic. The great, big, hulking men and women gathered around them. This would have been intimidating if they hadn't been cracking jokes the whole time.

Where Maeve slapped the charm's onto the skins of her queue, Bryn gracefully drew them. Both of their charms glowed when completed and settled invisibly back. Bryn blushed prettily as she was complimented and hit on by just about everyone she touched. She noticed Maeve's brusque shutting down of any attempts to flirt with her but it seemed such a hurtful way to go about it. And really, was it so bad to enjoy a little attention?

They worked out that they would pretend to be healers. They'd tell the leaders of the various groups they'd need to inspect every soldier for signs of demonic possession and draw the charm on under the guise of their examination. It worked with varying degrees of success. The leaders, having seen Maeve acting capably during the meeting, were inclined to allow her to do her thing. Though the Brute looked very sceptical about the whole thing. His scary appearance hid the fact that he was very smart and cared deeply for his crew. So Maeve stayed with him to keep him from changing his mind as Bryn worked her way through the mercenaries.

Their work took most of the day until finally, exhausted, they decided to visit the bath house once more. Sitting back in the big bath they finally were at leisure to just chat.

"Did you know, when you first saw me… that I was part of your crew once," Maeve hesitantly asked.

"No." Bryn immediately said. She'd have to be a horrible person to have known such a thing and not immediately brought Maeve back to their camp! "I knew that there had been a woman on the crew before me. That she was Dermott's caretaker. Maybe I heard your name once or twice but…. I guess no one wanted to talk to me about it. No wait, there was this big voice out of the sky that Sinbad talked to. It said you were safe, that you'd been taken away to keep everyone safe."

"Sinbad told me about that. That's what Dim-Dim told me as well. Travelling with others would mean putting them in danger, unless I get strong enough," Maeve admitted.

Bryn thought about that for a moment. "Isn't that true for all of us though? None of us is perfect, we all have weaknesses. When we go into battle or have adventures, those weaknesses could mean someone will get hurt. I don't see how your case is different, just because your master explicitly told you."

"Hmmm," Maeve slowly nodded. "I never thought about it that way. I will think about what you said."

"In the dark, you light a fire so you can see, right?" Sinbad looked around his crew to see if they were paying attention. "But when you do so, you lose your nightvision."

"Right, that's why the one standing guard at night always has to stay out of the circle of the fire," Doubar nodded.

"Those demons in the valley stand guard as well, but they can't get out of their own fire. So they bank it as much as they can," Sinbad nodded at Doubar.

"Stage two, their alert state," Firouz supplied, having paid rapt attention when Sinbad explained the basics of the demons.

"Very good. So just past midnight groups of us are going to take out the guard nests all at once. One group per nest. We take care of any reinforcements they might have as well, as long as they are in the alert state. If they're in the attack state we make a run for it until they've burned up their energy. Now, just before dawn they are at their weakest. That's when we fall onto the main nest. Remember: in dormant state we can attack them with swords, arrows, dirks or projectiles. In their alert state we attack them with explosions. In their attack state we run away. And when they die they explode into a vicious acid that will burn through your flesh, so do not be close when that happens." Sinbad pointed out on the map exactly what nest they were to attack and ordered Firouz to ready his explosive sticks. The other groups were making bombs from oils and alcohols.

"Just uh, in the nest, right? Well, will there be baby demons?" Doubar asked.

Sinbad stopped short. He had not considered this. "I guess so."

"Can't we take them over to some uninhabited isle somewhere?" Doubar suggested.

"They're demons, Doubar," Rongar signed. "Destruction is their only purpose."

Doubar looked deeply unhappy about it but seeing no one would support him on this nodded.

Maeve spent the rest of the afternoon with Dermott, working through the trauma of their sudden separation. He more than anyone else tried to convince her to come back to the crew. But he, more clearly than anyone, could see the anguish this choice brought her. So he relented, assured her he would accept any choice she made. That he loved her, regardless. Always.

In the distance a nest blew. Then another, and another, and then their own blew up spectacularly, only to quickly be followed by the fifth and last nest. None of the guard demons of the nest they had been assigned to survived so Sinbad and his crew settled down to wait for the reinforcements that might come their way. When none came they slowly started to make their way to the main nest. On the horizon the sky an orange glow was visible. Not sunrise yet, not by a long shot, but an overzealous use of fire had set the shrubbery ablaze over there. It was quickly getting out of hand.

But that was not Sinbad's problem. Not right now anyway. The wind was blowing in the direction of the shore, sending the fire away from Sinbad. He quickly checked around, Doubar and Bryn kept his left flank, Firouz and Rongar his right. All remained in formation. Quietly they crept on.

The nest was clearly visible now. A hive of panicky activity. Baby demons were settled onto the flaming backs of their elders. Child demons, carrying the unhatched eggs on their little backs, were herded into the centre of the tight circle the adult demons were forming. A dozen of the fiercest looking demons formed an arrow at the top of the circle, pointing in the direction of the blazing fire. The formation leader shrilly cried out and the whole pack started walking. The demons on the outermost edges blazed an angry blue. Looking ready to kill anyone that came near, all the other had their fires banked as they moved.

This had not been part of the plan. Sinbad signalled to his crew that they would follow along at a distance. Maeve had been right in her intel. The blue flamed demons couldn't keep up their attack state long. As they banked their fires they were replaced by adult demons from the inside ring of the circle. As they walked they spit fire everywhere, setting everything within sight on fire.

Soon Sinbad and his crew were unable to follow. They couldn't even see what was happening anymore. The vale before them was thick with flames and smoke. That they had the wind at their back was now a serious stroke of luck. They could only hope the teams downwind had realised quickly enough that they had to get out of the way.

"If they stay on course they won't meet the village or the keep before they reach the sea," Doubar said.

"I guess the demon babies are going to get saved after all," Sinbad clapped his brother on the back. "Any ideas how we're going to get this fire under control?"

Sinbad and his crew worked to put out the fire for most of the morning. They contained the fire to its area and waited for it to burn itself out safely. A short squall just before midday doused the remains and cleared the air of sparks. Tired, sooty and wet the crew trudged back to the camp.

"How dare you?" They heard the prince shouting halfway down the camp and as one the crew moved to see what the commotion was about. "You stupid, ugly, witch! I'll have you flayed alive for this!"

Hands on swords the crew made their way through the throng surrounding the prince just in time to see he was indeed shouting at Maeve. But Maeve was not quite herself, the change started gradually, lips just a bit redder, hair just a bit fuller, skin just a bit smoother. Then she smiled cruelly and before them stood a terrifyingly beautiful witch. Dressed in rich robes, a cloak around her shoulder blown back by witchwind, her hair, now the luscious, the colour of fire, blew back as well, her skin was lily-white, her eyes glowed red.

"You are an unkind boy," she said in hypnotic, honeyed tones. "I curse you, to remain unloved, until a truly kind person recognises you as equal." She approached him, unhurriedly, smiling like a cat at a mouse all the while. He shivered, sweated, didn't dare move. She slapped a hand against his heart. A rune glowed there and sunk invisibly into his skin. "Now pay what you owe so we can all be on our way." Without waiting for an answer she pushed past him and walked off.

"Serves him right," one of the soldiers beside them said. "After what she did tonight."

"What did she do?" Sinbad asked. "We were up on the moors, fighting the fire."

The solder took a long draft from his tankard and drunkenly looked Sinbad up and down. "Oh, so, good on ya. Ah, as to the witch lady, as I understand it, she set a trap for them beasties. Lured them out to the beach, then she magicked a fake beach over a sort of raft. So then the beasties thought they'd gotten to the end of the land, but they was on the sea already. She set the raft afloat and by the time the creatures knew what was happening they were over too deep water. The raft burned down, the beasts all drowned. What the boy's so mad about is the acid in the water. With so many exploding together the water is a wee bit poisonous right now. And of course, a good chunk of his land is scorched. I got the impression he would have liked us to die a whole lot more than he wanted his land and water damaged a bit."

Sinbad closed his eyes and groaned. Doubar just looked confused. "But, that wasn't the plan!"

"Yeah it was, that was what the boss told us elsewise," the soldier looked annoyed, like they were calling him a liar.

"What? Whose band are you in?" Firouz asked, going over everything that had to be arranged beforehand to make this situation work as it evidently had been planned all along.

"Dave's, you know, the big one. Couple of us blew up the nests, couple of us were in charge of setting the fires that would lure the beasties in the right direction and our technical boys built the raft the lady used."

"The brutish looking one?" Bryn asked. "She did spend a lot of time talking to him."

"And good they did too!" The soldier loyally shouted. "I am going to find myself another pint!"

"I'm going o find her and I am going to kill her," Sinbad muttered. "You realize she lied to us? How could she!"

"And put us in the safest spot." Firouz helpfully added.

Bryn rolled her eyes. "Of course she did. Figure it out boys, this is not a hard one. Go find her, I'm going to teach the prince some critical kindness skills." She clapped Sinbad on the back and made her way to the prince who was valiantly trying not to cry in front of everyone.

Doubar grabbed Sinbad by the arm and pulled him with them as Firouz and Rongar led the way back to their fire. "She _lied._" Sinbad muttered once more.

They found her looking normal again, sitting in the shadow of their tent. She looked up, relieved to see them all hale and hearty when she spotted Sinbad's angry expression. Her eyes hardened and she scrambled up to stand against the tidal wave of his anger.

"You put yourself in front of a horde of angry demons! And you didn't even let us guard your back! Do you really trust us so little?" He shouted, unmindful of all who would overhear.

"I did not have time for stupid heroics, so I left you out." Maeve crossed her arms and glared at him.

"If we had known the plan we could have been _useful. _But no, miss high and mighty has to decide what is good for all of us!"

"Yeah, that's right, I did. And don't worry, you played your part admirably. You were just as useful as I knew you would be." The words dripped from her lips like venom.

"Is that what we are to you? A bunch of puppets to move around at your will?" Sinbad's voice got low and dangerous. Doubar, Firouz and Rongar shared a worried glance but dared not intervene.

"Yes! If that's what it takes to keep you alive!" She was loud now, hurling the words at his head like stones.

"Not this again! Our lives and deaths are not on your shoulders! So stop martyring yourself and running away and pushing us away and… Just stop!" Frustration tightened him like a bowstring about to snap.

"You're one to talk! Did you or did you not try to give away your soul to the devil to save me?" She accused, pointing a sharp finger at him.

"That was different!" Sinbad protested.

"Of course it was! I forgot, only you get to be the rescuer, the hero, you can't handle anyone else keeping you safe!" She shouted again, trying to hurt.

"Yes I can, it's you who…" Sinbad seemed to deflate. He took a deep breath, blinked away the sudden tears. "It's like we found you, but you're still trying to be alone."

"No! You don't get to do that!" She shouted at him, trying to keep the fight going while all the fight had left him.

"I'm sorry Maeve, I thought we'd connected but everything is so different now, _we_ are so different now…" Sinbad said, looking her in the eye, showing her all the sadness he felt.

"No, don't say that…" She was crying now, shaking her head, caving in on herself. At least when he'd been angry he'd _cared_, this defeated attitude seemed like a sign she had finally broken the camel's back and he was done with her. The loneliness threatened to suffocate her right there in the middle of them all.

He reached out for her, took her hand in his, wrapped an arm around her shoulder. Together they sank down to sit on the ground. She hid her face against his shoulder, clutched at his waist.

"Don't worry," he whispered in her ear. "We will re-learn each other. However much or little you want to show of yourself is fine with me. Just please, don't lie to me.

"Thank you, thank you," she sobbed against his shoulder. Unable to look him in the eye she whispered. "I thought you were going to leave me."

"Never," he wrapped himself tighter around her, relieved when she reciprocated, though the angle was awkward and they were close to losing their balance altogether.

Doubar wrapped his arms around the both of them, anchoring them. "Never," he echoed. Friouz and Rongar joined the hug, echoing the sentiment.

"Remember, if you ever need us, just leave a message with Caipra or the Caliph. Or stay at my house in Baghdad, I promise to visit at least once a year. Most probably in winter. Or you could, you know, just come with us," Sinbad held both her hands in his, unable to let go and feeling the moment of separation bearing down on them like a ton of bricks.

"You'll be right in here." She tapped her heart. "I'll try to come to Baghdad this winter. I've found some great books I want to study so…"

Sinbad nodded, grateful. "I don't want to say goodbye…"

"Then let us have our turn, little brother!" Doubar edged Sinbad out of the way until he had to let go of Maeve. Doubar wrapped her up in the biggest bearhug. "You will never be alone, lass. We're right there with you, whenever you need."

"Thank you do much, for…" But Maeve couldn't encompass her gratitude in words so squeezed him extra hard for a moment.

"Anytime lass, anytime." Doubar released her, cupped her cheek for a moment and smiled. Then he was gone and Firouz was in his place. They danced from side to side a little as they hugged, laughed at their own silliness. "Science is the future, you know. Maybe you should invest some time in that."

"I'm good with magic right now, but thanks. Someday, maybe." Maeve tousled his curls and got hers tousled in return. They laughed and released and then he was gone too.

"I feel like I'm saying goodbye to an old friend," Bryn admitted to Maeve, unsure if they should hug or not.

"Me too. Thank you, for everything, for Dermott and the boys and… for being there for a perfect stranger," Maeve reached for Bryn, just a little, giving space for Bryn to opt out of a hug.

Relieved, Bryn stepped into the hug. "Thank you! For sharing and… and everything."

Then Rongar stood before her and without hesitation Maeve wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. "All the feelings," she choked out. "It's overwhelming."

Rongar wrapped an arm around her waist, placed the other hand on her back, spread his fingers between her shoulder blades. He felt her beating heart and soothed it with his touch. His love and kindness unmistakeable through his touch.

Finally Maeve fell into Sinbad's arms. They were both crying. "Anytime you want to come back, you're welcome. Anytime you need us…" Sinbad said hoarsely.

"I love you all so much," Maeve whispered.

"We love you too, so, so much," Sinbad whispered back.

She unwrapped one arm to lightly punch him in the gut. "This is not a competition." She said with a strangled half sob/half laugh.

"We love you infinity times so much," he added with a sappy grin.

"Infinity plus one," Maeve countered.

"Plus two!" Sinbad drew back to look into her laughing face.

"Infinity plus infinity," Maeve did not back down, grinning impishly.

Sinbad wrapped her back into his arms. "Plus infinity," he said, unable to keep the tears at bay.

"You are such a child," she argued, holding on to him for dear life. "Plus infinity." She added.

He laughed, kissed her cheek, her nose, her lips. "Until we meet again."

She nodded, wiping the tears and snot away. She watched him walk down the dunes to the beach where the longboat with his crew waited. "Plus infinity!" He shouted up to her.

"Plus infinity!" She shouted back, happy to be childish to the last.

She sat down among the dune grass, holding up her arm for Dermott to land on. It would be a good half hour before the Nomad would be ready to set sail and he would have to fly to join her.

"Everyday, at sundown, I will call out, as far and wide as I can, just your name. And if you're near, we can see each other," Dermott told her.

"And everyday at sundown, I will listen for that call." She carded her fingers through his feathers until he ruffled them in place again.

"I don't have to go. I can stay with you." Dermott hopefully added.

"You get your own life now. That's good. Doesn't mean I won't miss you," Maeve said.

"Love you, sister," Dermott said.

"Love you, brother," she replied.

When it was time he flew off. Maeve sat all alone on that dune, watching them sail away. Then she picked herself up and went to find Bob the Carter who had offered her a ride. She was headed to her next adventure, whatever it may be, a stronger person than she was just a few days ago.


End file.
